Jane Harper’s The Dry is all about the clash between rural and urban, with big-city Melbourne resident Falk coming back to his old rural hometown of Kiewarra and struggling to fit in with the local culture. The dozens of local utes (“utility vehicles,” similar to pickup trucks) in town hint at how important manual labor is in rural Kiewarra. At first the novel may seem to focus predominantly on the negatives of rural life. The prologue, which describes flies feeding on Luke’s corpse, immediately establishes Kiewarra as a pace haunted by death. Violence—whether from gun violence, pub fights, or domestic abuse—seems common, and people seem to think with a mob mentality. This leads many in Kiewarra to falsely believe for 20 years that Falk murdered Ellie, and it also leads to situations where Dr. Leigh and Sullivan have to hide their 18-month romantic relationship because they feel that local residents won’t accept homosexuality. By the end, the novel doesn’t contradict any of these flaws of rural life, but Falk does come away with a better understanding of it, respecting people like Gretchen and Barb and Gerry who try to support their community and make the best of it.
By contrast, urban life comes with more opportunity in The Dry—particularly economically—but it also has its own flaws. As the large grant for Kiewarra’s park shows, rich people in cities wield their influence over rural towns in arbitrary ways, sometimes bestowing generosity and other times withholding it. This seemingly unearned feeling of superiority manifests itself in particular in Whitlam, the Kiewarra school principal who is originally from a big city. Whitlam seems to look down on the local community, living outside it and complaining about it to Falk. Ultimately, Whitlam’s biases lead him to underestimate the intelligence of his employee Karen, a longtime Kiewarra resident who discovers when Whitlam is embezzling the school. While The Dry paints a bleak picture of rural life in Australia, it doesn’t suggest that urban life is the antidote, showing how the better economic prospects in cities may nevertheless come with their own costs.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Urban vs. Rural ThemeTracker
Urban vs. Rural Quotes in The Dry
Even those who didn’t darken the door of the church from one Christmas to the next could tell there would be more mourners than seats. A bottleneck of black and grey was already forming at the entrance as Aaron Falk drove up, trailing a cloud of dust and cracked leaves.
“It’s good to see you again, Aaron.” Her blue eyes wandered over his face as though trying to memorize it and she smiled a little sadly. “Maybe see you in another twenty years.”
He’d always assumed Luke had been found in the ute’s driver’s seat, but the images showed his body flat on its back in the cargo tray. The lip of the tray was open and Luke’s legs dangled over as though he’d been sitting on the edge. A shotgun by his side pointed towards the mess where his head would have been. His face was completely missing.
“Scott,” she began, then stopped. He waited. She took a deep breath. “Scott, to be honest, I wasn’t sure about coming to you with this. My husband—” Karen held his gaze, but Whitlam felt she was forcing herself. “Luke, well. Look, he wouldn’t be happy.”
“You’re a closed book,” she’d said one final time before she’d left. She’d said it a lot over the two years they’d been together. First intrigued, then concerned, finally accusing. Why couldn’t he let her in? Why wouldn’t he let her in? Did he not trust her? Or did he not love her enough?
“I’m trying to keep Kiewarra safe for our kids. Is that too much to ask? Haven’t things been bad enough? I know you didn’t have much time for Karen, but you could at least show some respect, Gretchen.”
“Christ, it’s like Deliverance around here sometimes.”
“I’m not judging you for being gay, mate. I’m judging you for wasting our time when a family’s lying dead.”
Falk leaned over him, ignoring the dog as it bared its teeth. He stood over an ill man lying on the ground. Later he would hate himself for it. At that moment, he didn’t care.
The tiny pink face, dark hair and chubby wrist peeked out from the folds of a blue blanket in his arms. Luke held the child comfortably, closely. Paternally.
“These gambling types are fair old suckers, though. Always looking for strategies and loopholes. End of the day, it only works if you back the right horse.”
“It was never about Luke.”
“Stay back,” he said, rotating his hand. Falk caught a first glint of metal and his brain screamed gun, while a deeper part flitted frantically, trying to process what he was seeing. Raco tensed next to him. Whitlam unfolded his hand finger by finger, and Falk’s breath left his chest. He heard Raco groan long and deep. A thousand times worse than a gun.
It was a lighter.
The sun was gone and night had fallen around him, he realized. Above the gum trees, the stars were bright. He wasn’t worried. He knew the way. As he walked back to Kiewarra, a cool breeze blew.
